I call bullshit

Back in Aug I saw another post about National Cancer Survivor Day, "battling" against cancer, "brave" survivors, etc. blah, blah, blah. "Copy and paste, share, if you too know someone touched by cancer." 

Now it's October -  National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.  


Nope.

Just nope.


Don't pink wash it by buying some product.
Don't seek attention for yourself by asking for people to notice that you know someone touched by cancer (hint - we all do, it's not that uncommon).
Don't be condescending and victim blaming by using words like "battle" and "brave". Most cancer patients have many, many days when they don't feel like battling and being brave, and that's OK.

You want to make a difference?

Fork over some bucks to primary research.

Write a letter to your senators and representatives letting them know that you support, and expect them to support, and FUND, fundamental cancer research.

Make a meal for a family currently dealing with this, but ask first if/when it's convenient, and if there are any foods you should avoid - and then actually show up when you said you would.

Ask what they want and need, then listen and follow through - clean a patients house, do some laundry, pull some weeds.

And most of all, remember that people with cancer are just that - PEOPLE who happen to have an illness that every single one of us will have, if we live long enough.

Cancer treatment - the gift that keeps on giving

It is January. It's cold, dreary, and full of frozen yuck.

Four years ago this month, in January 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer.   It was not the worst time of my life, but it was close. My reality changed irrevocably.

I spend that entire year undergoing cancer treatment.  It wasn't as hellish as you might think, mostly due to good drugs, and even better friends and family.  I had at least 4 or 5 surgeries, months of chemo and radiation. I find there are many bits I don't remember.  Watching a video, Firelord will say "We've seen that", but it seems new to me.  The kids will mention something they did, and I have little to no recollection of the incident.  I remember taking trips to Steamboat, meeting my cousins in Yellowstone, girls night in our basement.  I remember over a hundred meals being brought to our house.  I don't remember suffering too much - then.

I suffered more the year after.  That year I was supposed to be relieved and grateful.  My hair started to grow back.  My chemo-yellow skin pinked up.  I looked "normal".  But I didn't feel normal.  I wasn't what I had been.  I needed to sit more, and more often.  My words stuttered and fell unspoken.  My short term memory was no longer sufficient for many every day activities.   I had constant pain, not just from the surgeries, but from peripheral neuropathy.
I looked fine.  I was expected to get back to "normal" life.  I consistently let people down with my inability to meet expectations - myself most of all.

I tried to tell folks, but no one wanted to hear it.  I learned that the only acceptable response to "How are you?" is "fine".  If I told my truth I was "complaining" and after all, "You're alive, right?"  Which was funny, since alive hurts a hell of a lot and didn't always seem to be worth the price I was paying.

Just before one of the surgeries the nurse asked "DNR?" to which Firelord shouted "NO!"  He told me "You don't get to choose, you have kids."  I wasn't allowed to survive for me.  I didn't survive for me.  I survived for my kids.  To do otherwise was too selfish to be allowed.  Because I was a mother I allowed myself to suffer the torture that is cancer treatment.

Of all the things a cancer patient is supposed to be, selfish isn't one of them.  Cancer patients should be warriors, bravely battling.  Cancer survivors should be happy, grateful for the treatment that probably saved their lives.  Cancer patients should be cheerful, remembering how many people are working to support and save them.  God forbid the patient/survivor notices that the cancer hadn't yet done any harm and that the treatment did significant permanent damage.  God forbid that we ever express impatience with our new limitations and continuing pain.

2013 was a really, really hard year.

2014 was a little better.  By last year, 2015, I realized that this was it.  This was as good as it was going to get.  Three years out - I had made all the improvement I was likely to make from my cancer treatment induced injuries.  It wasn't bad as it was that first year of survival.  Now I've gotten used to it: wrapping my hand every night to minimize the affects of lymphodema, the constant pins and needles of neuropathy,   the joint pain, dry skin, and poor memory caused by the aromitase inhibitor...

I've accepted a new normal, and it's not so bad.   It's not that it's all kittens and rainbows.  It's that I can see past the constant every day pains and discomfort in my body to the every day joys and trials of my life.  Bit Boy will graduate high school this spring.  He is planning on going to university.  Lego Kid is a 9th grader, learning the ropes of high school and exploring a new kind of independence.  Hot Dog is approaching adolescence, but still a boy, my last child.  I get to see them every day.  They still have their mom.  The price I paid for that is high, but not too high.

The effects of cancer treatment are something that I will never be allowed to forget.  But the experience of raising my kids, of getting to see them grow and change, that's something I will never dare forget.

Bullsh*t

"Tough times don't last, Tough people do"

I can see why folks love that saying. It gives them hope that their troubles will end, and it makes them believe that they are the strong, the chosen "tough people".

Sunshine comes with shadows

But I hate that saying.

Because, for some people tough times do last. For some people they never, ever, end.

And what about those people who don't make it? ,

Guess they weren't tough enough, eh?  

Fuck that shit.

This strikes me as another kind of blame the victim game. In our western culture of individuality we credit ourselves with the power to change reality - and sometimes we can -ish. But a lot of times we can't. 

We just can't.

"Chin up" doesn't cure depression.

Eating clean and thinking good thoughts doesn't cure cancer.

Faith alone can't heal everything (or anything).

And failure to keep a positive attitude and faithful spirit do not cause illness, injury, or death.

Sunshine comes with shadows, sorrows with joy, and it's not your fault if some days it's just too hard.

So, yes, I support working towards a positive attitude - that can make things more bearable, and help you find joy even in troubles. 

But I also give you permission to hurt, sorrow, grieve.  The troubles are real.

You are not wrong or broken to feel less than tough today.

You are loved and held as a child of the universe, regardless of how tough your times are, how tough (or not) you are.

What's that word?

I need to know the name for a word that may or may not exist.  It's not schadenfreud, but means something close...

What's the word for people who show their jealously when you explain something you've lost and they say "Well, I never had that so you shouldn't miss it?"  or "Now you know how I feel"  or "Now you're just like the rest of us"  ?

I've seen this in more than one circumstance, but the most memorable was when I was sick last year.  When I went bald I had healthy bald men say "Now you know how I feel".
Really?  You're comparing a bald woman on chemotherapy with a healthy bald man?
Wow - well, I guess we both need hats in the winter.

When my hair did come back, but thinner, curly, fragile I heard comments like "At least you had good hair once"  "Didn't you always want curly hair?  Guess you should be careful what you wish for". 
Because you think I had something good before, I don't deserve to have it back, or mourn its' loss?

During chemo and now, after, I have memory and cognitive issues (called "chemo-brain" in cancer circles).  I've heard comments like "Guess you're not so smart now, eh?"  "You were too smart for your own good before anyway" and  "Lucky you had some brains to spare". 
I don't even have a response to that.

Now that I have kids in school, I'm finding something similar at an institutional level. 
I've got a kid with a 2+ sigma difference between his IQ and certain types academic achievement.  Before 2008 this would be diagnosed as an official "learning disability" and we could have (relatively) easily gotten an IEP and some accommodations for this student.  Because of a change in the laws that define learning disabilities, that isn't the case.  Even though this kid isn't able to work at the level indicated by his ability, because he is able to perform  at or above "average for grade or age" level, it isn't considered a disability.  Despite the fact that they prevent him from showing some of his abilities, his disabilities don't count because they only bring him down to the "average".  His difficulties, although very real and frustrating in a school setting, don't merit consideration by the powers that be.

As I write this I know that many will interpret it as whining.
"You're alive right?  You should be grateful."
I am grateful to be alive.  That doesn't mean I don't miss the parts of my life that are gone or changed by cancer treatment.

"What's wrong with average?"
There's nothing wrong with being average.
There's nothing wrong with being NOT average either, and it needs to be acknowledged that people who are not average in ways that are usually perceived as positive still have problems and need support just like "average" people.

I'll leave you by talking about my geese.
We got domestic geese at the end of last summer.  They seem pretty happy waddling along in our back field eating grass, and tucking into their pen at night with their grain.  We love our geese, their antics and beauty are a joy to watch.

Here in Colorado we also have lots of wild Canada geese.  They are beautiful.  This time of year they migrate, they fly high and free.  At the city park we have some resident Canada geese, some of which are permanently injured and can not migrate anymore.  They have a relatively good life, people feed them and there's a little island they can retreat to if they want to avoid the dogs and kids.

City Park Canada goose

George and Gracie

What is the difference between a domestic goose who can't fly and a wild goose who can't fly?  Is it a comfort to the wild goose to know that now it's "just like" a domestic goose?

Fine, thanks.

"How are you?" 

It seems like a harmless enough question. 

We ask each other that everyday.  Yet how many people really want to hear the answer?  If the person asking lives in your house, the true, heartfelt answer could be appreciated.  If the question is asked on the street or grocery store the correct answer is "Fine, thanks.  And you?"  Period. 

But what if the person asking is a friend, while you're in a public place?  And what if the friend presses for a real answer?  Do you tell her?  Those are harder questions than you might think. 

Here's the deal - if you tell someone how you really are, they may not be able to hear it.  They might try to change your mind, or at least your answer.  That feels pretty invalidating. 

So, unless you're willing and able to hear the real answer, and to accept it, without challenging the other person, don't press for more than "Fine, thanks.  And you?"  What you're really saying is "I'm glad to see you, let's exchange the socially correct greetings.", which is a lovely thing to say and do.  It's fine, really.  You don't have to press for more, especially if you can't take the answer.

Not ... Enough

Have you ever noticed that if you don't do something the "right" way, the socially accepted way, that then it's all your fault?

Yesterday I discovered Black Girl Dangerous, a fantastic blog that describes itself as " a literary and activist forum that amplifies the voices of queer and trans* people of color."  Yes, it's angry, it can be extreme, especially the current post, but, it also makes some excellent points, and can be beautiful to the point of bringing me to tears.  I got carried away and linked a lot (3?) of the posts on my facebook page. 

I was saddened to see the comments that a couple of friends made on my links to her posts.  Mostly along the lines of "I can't read her" -  she's too angry, full of loathing, negative, not productive....
It could be summed up in this remark: " Really, it doesn't take any more effort to look around and see the positive. But then one can't continue to call oneself a victim."

It's being a victim to express your feelings?  To name the injustice you've seen and experienced?  When you've been abused and mistreated, when you've seen others in the same situation, you shouldn't be angry and speak out, you should just "look around and see the positive"?

I felt personally invalidated by their opinion on BGD posts.  It's taken me a while to understand why I was so hurt by this, why I was well and truly triggered.  Here it is- what I heard these people say was "She's not doing it right."  I heard them say that there is a proper way to be a marginalized minority, there is a proper way to express the feelings you have about how you have been treated, and this isn't it.

It's something I've heard and experienced again and again in my life.

When I spoke out as a young adult about being molested and abused as a child I was invalidated - told it didn't happen, told it wasn't so bad, told I was rude to talk about it, besides "You lived, right?".  Because surviving was evidence enough that it couldn't be that bad?

Now as an adult I'm not recovering from cancer treatment right either, I'm constantly asked "How are you?  When are you coming back to ...?"  No one wants to hear anything but "Fine." and "Soon."  No one (including me!) wants to hear the litany of ailments cancer treatment has left me with, or that my life will not be returning to what it was any time soon, maybe not anytime at all.  I just need to "look around and see the positive."  To do otherwise indicates that I'm ungrateful for my life and all my blessings.  I lived, right?  Shouldn't I just shut up and be grateful to be alive?

I was taught to be a good little girl.  Keep quiet.  Keep the family secrets.  Be polite.  Suck it up.  Put on a good face.  Time and again, when I have bucked those lessons, I've been reprimanded and shamed, and that's what I heard in the facebook responses to my links to BGD's posts.  You are not ____ enough.  Not polite enough, not good enough, not white enough, not brown enough,not sick enough, not healthy enough, not grateful enough... 
You Are Not Enough.

I don't think they meant it that way.  They certainly didn't mean it towards me.  Knowing these people IRL, I suspect that it really is just that they have enough on their plate without having the pain of another thrown in their face.  I know it's hard to face the harsh reality that so many other people have to live with, especially when our own feels like more than we can take.  I can only take so much too. I turn off NPR and turn on my MP3 player to avoid having to listen to one more report of another bombing, another war, another rape victim.

Just because I can't take it, it doesn't go away.  It's my right to not listen when I can't take anymore.  But even more so, it's the victims right to speak their truth, in any way they need to.

Yes, it's good to survive.  Some times it makes us stronger, but the unfortunate fact is to be a survivor, first we had to be a victim.  It's not a crime to be a victim, it's not a crime to wish it never happened and to rail against the powers that be that allowed it to happen.  It's right and just that we speak out when we can, however we can.  The world needs our truth. 

The world needs everyone's truth - even if the truth is ugly.

How else can we know we need to work to make things better?

2012 Wrap Up

Hot Dog's version of "Bald Mama"

I wish I could do this year over.  I wish that I could have been healthy and involved for this last year of my children's lives.  My kiddos have not invented a time machine yet (although I'm told they're working on it).
I can't have this year back.
 So.
Thank God this year is over.
Sincerely.
Cancer treatment just sucks.

That aside, we also had some good times.  In spite of how I felt a good deal of the time, with the help of Firelord, friends, and family, we managed to get out and about.  It's was not as much as we would usually do, but still, much more than I would have expected. I'm writing this post to remind myself of those good times.

Bit Boy got braces - on and off - in 4 months.  We were all glad it was such a short treatment.

Bit Boy joined the Civil Air Patrol and earned his Eagles Wings, then decided that, as interested as he is in flying, the military bent was too much for his taste.  I was proud of him for sticking it out as long as he did and giving it a fair shot.

Firelord and Hot Dog in Geall

 We got to kayak and sail just a tiny bit at Boyd Lake and Horsetooth Reservoir.

Lego Kid and Hot Dog finally got their wish to go fishing.  We dragged Bit Boy, our near vegetarian, along.  Sadly he was the one who actually got a fish, much to his horror.
We were doing catch and release.  I promise the fish was fine.  Had Lego Kid been the one to catch it, we may have been eating sushi then and there, despite the lack of wasabi.

We got to foster some of the cutest kittens on the planet.  I'd have to go back and count but I'm pretty sure we've had more than 20 in just the last year.






We did lots of field trips
(many of which are worth doing again)
Celestial Seasonings
The U.S. Mint
Homeschool Day at Elich Gardens
Casa Bonita (might not need to do that again)
The Butterfly Pavilion
The Denver Zoo
2 different air shows - Warbirds Over the Rockies and the Wild West Air Fest
Yellowstone National Park
Harvest Farm Fall Festival
The DaVinci Machine Exhibit


This was the first year in a long time that I saw more performances than I was in.
Cirque du Soleil (Dralion w/ just Firelord, and Quidam w/ the kids)
Peter Pan
A Year with Frog and Toad

Winter Wishes Ice Show
A Musical Christmas Carol
Gift of the Magi




Yup, it was a hard year, but there were some very good times too.

Thanks to my family and friends, and especially Firelord, we got through it.

Here's to hoping for a healthy and happy 2013

What to Say

Some friends have asked me to post about how to help, what to say, or what not to say, when a loved one or friend has cancer.  Honestly I don't have all the answers.  The truth is if it is someone you know, and who knows and trusts you, you can probably speak from your heart, and all will be well.

Most of us don't speak from our heart though.  That feels too vulnerable.  We say what we think we should say, or we don't think at all and say the first thing that comes to our mind.  Ouch.   I've done that, and to any and all I've hurt, I apologize.  Like so many, I meant well, I just didn't know what to do.  As I hope to be forgiven for my gaffs, I try to forgive others for theirs.  There's only been a few mean spirited things said/done to me.  Most folks mean well and I'm just extra sensitive when I'm low.  I try to remember that and just let it flow past me.

But, for those who want to read on, I recommend these posts from City Girl, who's BTDT.

Helping a Loved One During a Health Crisis
You Look Great (or not)
Cancer Buddy vs Cancer Bully
Video Cancer Buddy vs Cancer Bully

Steamboat delivers again.

Yesterday we toured the Tread of the Pioneers Museum, checked out the local Farmer's Market, ate at the Steamboat Smokehouse, and swam at the rec center.  The Tread of the Pioneers Museum is in a cool old Victorian house that is (mostly) decorated in period.  It has a lot of Steamboat history in it's rooms.  We had fun doing their scavenger hunt, and checking out all the old tools, instruments, and memorabilia.  Even though there was much complaining before we went, as we left all (voluntarily!) said they enjoyed it.  Lunch at the Smokehouse wasn't as big a hit with the kids as it was with Firelord and me, but that might have had something to do with the pretzels-as-big-astheir-heads they ate in the morning at the farmer's market.  The rec center was fun but, given the summer heat, the hot springs were almost too warm.  Almost.

Today we went to the Wild West Air Fest and splurged on a helicopter ride for the family.  It was a frivolous expense, but also totally worth it.  None of us have never ridden in a helicopter before, not even Firelord who has his pilots license.  The weather was perfect and it was fun seeing all the planes.

Now we are waiting for pizza delivery while Hot Dog and Lego Kid watch college football (BYU vs Washington State).  Sigh... how did I get kids that like to watch sports?

All in all, despite the sad news from home, it's been a very enjoyable little holiday. 

Hope is arrogance on display

We all want to know "why?"  Sometimes it's "why me?" Sometimes the question is "how?", or "why now?"

And, more often than we like, the answer is "I don't know", or "no reason", or "it's just the way it is".

And that's hard.  It's really hard.  How can we accept that there's not necessarily rhyme or reason to the crazy shit that happens?  How do we live with the suffering and death and heart rendering sorrow that in time come to afflict us all?

I think that's why humans invented religion.  I had a friend who liked to tell me that we all had a hole in us, a God Hole.  That we all had a need to answer those questions, and that need was our God Hole begging to be filled.  I agree.  As humans we can see beyond the now.  We remember  our pasts and share our memories with people who aren't even born yet.  We can envision the future.  We have the arrogance to believe we can change the future.  We have the ability to imagine that things are not yet, and then make them happen.  We know that things can be different than how they are. That's our God Hole, our imagination begging to understand and control.  My friend was a Pentecostal, and I'm pretty sure she didn't mean for me to interpret her the way I did.  And in my vast imagination, I can see us both being right.

Tonight my heart is heavy.  I just learned from our house sitter that one of our foster kittens is very sick, probably dying.  What happened?  I don't know.   We are away in Steamboat, taking advantage of the Labor Day weekend and the fact that I'm only 1 week into radiation and not as sick as I'm going to get.  These 4 foster kittens are only 4 weeks old.  They are the cutest sweetest little cuddles of fur we've had in a while.  I'm heart broken that one is so ill, and keep coming back to all the the things I might have done wrong.  Did I miss some symptom?  We hadn't had them long at all.  The rescue knew that we were leaving and that the house sitter would be caring for them, but perhaps I should have refused to have them while we were gone.  I know our house sitter is excellent with animals, but she shouldn't have to take on this responsibility.  She's tenderhearted and has her own sorrows.  I'm so sorry to have added any burdens to her already full load.

It's not really just about the little kitten is it?  That innocent little fur ball represents every child that's ever been hurt, every person that has suffered, and all the hideous ugly horrors that the living must daily face.  I know that.  I know it's about my cancer, the abuse I suffered as a child, the sorrow I hold in my heart for my own children watching me be ill.  I know it's about the suffering and illness my mother has suffered, and my brother in law, and my aunts.  I know it's personal, for each of us.  We all have our wounds, scars, and sorrows.  It's just that kind of a world.

How arrogant am I?  That I think I can affect any of this?  I am human.  My God Hole sees other possibilities than pain, sorrow and suffering.  My God Hole knows, not only that this will not last, but that better things are possible.  So I keep going.  I look for fun and joy.  I take my hugs when they come.  I drink a glass of wine, and enjoy the taste fresh fruit.  I play with my children.  I rescue little fluff balls. 

I'm that arrogant.



Update 9/2/12:

The kitten died.  Our house sitter rushed it to the rescue late last night, where the vet met her, but there was nothing that could be done.    The vet gave the house sitter some medicine for the other kitties, because one of them had a fever and was listless. (She also gave the feverish one extra sub-q fluids.)  This morning the house sitter texted that the 3 remaining kittens were doing well.  Sometimes there's nothing you can do, but sometimes there is. 

I'm grateful to have such an awesome house/pet sitter, that she would care so much and get herself and 4 kittens to the vet late at night.  I'm impressed with Dr. Gloria from the Fort Collins Cat Rescue, that she would give up a Sat. night to try to save the life of 8 oz. of fluff.  Having dealt with her before, I'm not surprised, just continuously in awe of her dedication and abilities.  That's one arrogant, hopeful, woman.

Trepidations

Today is my kids' first day of school.  Ever.  For many parents that would be bittersweet.
For me, it's just bitter.

I am not the mom you see counting down the days until the kids go back to school on facebook.  I love homeschooling.  I love being surrounded by my family.  I love hearing my kids plan, and play, and chortle as they come up with their various shenanigans.  I love how easy and free their learning is.  I miss them when they're away, even while I love hearing about their independent experiences.

I am getting quite worked up about this.  I don't know why.  This isn't even real school, just a one day a week enrichment program.  A friend wrote to tell me to say "I hope that you are able to have some restful down time while they are gone"    Ha!  I will be spending my morning at doctors' offices.  Which is part of why I signed them up for this.  It gives them something to do, and a safe place to be, at the same time it gives me a predictable day for scheduling the many appointments my health requires right now.

I spent this morning, as I sent them off with Firelord, being cheerful, sending them off with a "Have fun!  I can't wait to hear all about it" attitude, even while having my doubts about how it's going to go for them.  Hot Dog got a call last night from a friend (who will also be there) to talk strategies for staying out of the principal's office.  That set Hot Dog off in to wails of "I don't want to go to school!" because he had no idea it would be so hard to stay out of trouble with the (apparently) terrifying principal.  (I've met her, she actually seemed pretty normal.)  Lego Kid is nervous about the whole thing, and at the age when sleeping in is becoming more necessary physiologically.  Getting up this morning wasn't easy.  A strong introvert, Lego Kid needs a lot of alone and quiet time to feel stable.  Being in a classroom all day with other kids may be a challenge.  Bit Boy is the one that1 day a week may be insufficient for.  At 14 he is feeling the need to stretch his legs and spread his wings.   He's ready for some independence from his family, even if he isn't ready to do what someone else tells him all day. But he too likes to sleep in, and like his brothers, is used to having lots of time for his own projects.

Well, we'll just have to see how today goes for them.  As for me, I'm back from my little surgery and going to bed for a bit.

UPDATE (8/27/12)

All the boys had a fine day at their enrichment program.
On a scale of 1-10:  Hot Dog rated it a 9, Lego Kid gave it a 7, and Bit Boy an 8.
All are back today, after only a minor bit of whining from Lego Kid who last night called it the "enragement" program, and whined about having to get out of bed before 8 am.

I have been able to get some appointments in, like the 2 radiation treatments I have today.  So, so far, it's a win/win.  Or at least an acceptable draw.

If Mama ain't happy...

... Ain't nobody happy.

You've heart that one, right?

Is it true at your house?

It's true at our house too.  Not in the "Mama's pissed and she's after your butt" way, but in the literal, if I'm not well, no one else is either way.

Seriously.
It seems absolutely impossible for my family to be happy and cheerful if I'm sick.

Ah, that seems kinda sweet, doesn't it?
NO.  It's not.
It's damned irritating, and sometimes totally dysfunctional, especially when Mom is truly very ill and needs everyone else to step up while she's down.

I noticed this before my diagnosis.  If I was low, the kids were low, and nothing got done.  If I was sick, you could bet the mortgage that at least one kid would spend the day complaining and asking "Do I have a fever?"  Before my diagnosis I chalked it up to my skewed perception when I was low or sick.  The family wasn't really taking on my symptoms, it just seemed like it to me because my view point was skewed while I was low or sick.  I was over sensitive.

But this last year I've had lots of opportunity to test the theory that every person in this house takes their physical and emotional cues from me and every single time it's tested, I'm right.  On the weeks I get chemo, suddenly everyone else feels a little off, queasy, tired, out of sorts.   What ever my physical or emotional malaise is, it is mirrored in my family.

When I don't do house work, it just doesn't get done, even if I lay on the couch and try to micromanage from there.  It just doesn't happen.  When I'm well and can pop up and say "Time to clean" the same micromanaging works just fine.  "Hot Dog - pick up all the nerf darts.  LegoKid put all the legos away.  Bit Boy, you vacuum."  If I'm on my feet and smiling, this all gets done with a minimal amount of griping.  If I'm down, it's like I'm speaking a different language.  If I'm too tired to do laundry, very little laundry gets done.  Yet, if I am well enough to start it and ask for help, suddenly - Boom - lots of hands helping and it's done.

The cure for this is  - what?  I know.  Don't get sick. Especially, don't get a life threatening illness that requires medical treatment that is also life threatening.  Stay cheerful no matter how you feel physically.  Don't let them see you sweat.

Uh.  No.  I can't do that.  Damn.  I wish I could.  But thems the breaks.  I'm going to be in, and recovering from, cancer treatment for a while yet.  I can't help but feel bad and tired sometimes.
I've talked with them about it, but only FireLord is really mature enough to see the pattern.  Even seeing the pattern isn't enough to change things.  So we'll just have to all muddle through together.  Hopefully at some point soonish I'll be getting stronger and be able to be more consistent in my energy and health.  Until then, well, don't look to closely at the dust bunnies, eh?

Silver linings on an f'n big cumulo nimbus

Cancer comes with some unexpected blessings.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not glad I have cancer.  Treatment sucks.  It is barbaric and cruel.  (For an unblemished read of cancer treatment check out "Memoir of a Debulked Woman")  I hate having to think of the very real potential of my kids growing up without me.  And I despise what this has done to me and my family.  This is not the childhood I wanted for my kids.

I would never wish it on anyone, and I'm not the sort the believes "everything happens for a reason".
I think random shit happens and we just have to deal.  In my case there's a family history of breast cancer, so I guess it's not so random.  But I still have to deal.

My way of dealing is to bitch and moan, whine and complain, and then try to make the best of it.

Making the best of it has included:

Making an effort to do fun things with the kids when I'm well enough, things we always "meant to do" but hadn't gotten to.
Being surprised and enlightened at the friends who've "stuck" and the ones who haven't
Being amazed and humbled by the supportive community we have
Getting to spend time with distant, but beloved, family members
Having a bit more time to read and watch movies
Enjoying mindful moments with my kids
Not worrying about how to pay for living until I'm 90
Fun play with  my hair that I would have never tried with out knowing that I was going to loose it all

In prep for the first hair loss I bleached it and dyed it pink. 

 Really, really, pink.

It grew back in between treatments, I call this Buddhist monk look

 

It started falling out again, so Firelord had some fun with it before he buzzed it for me.

Wasn't expecting this

I have no idea how to write this post. I thought long and hard about whether I should even have this topic on this blog. But here's the thing. This is my blog. It's about my life, which is all of one piece. I have another blog, where I put recipes, but that's for my convenience. In Blatherings and Bothering I write about what I'm thinking and experiencing, what I care about or get worked up about. Now I've got something new I'll be thinking about and experiencing, caring about, getting worked up about. It'll be affecting all aspects of our lives, including, maybe especially, homeschooling. So. I'm going to share it with you.

(Breath in. Breath out.)

I have been diagnosed with StageIIIA breast cancer.

Let me tell you, it is not something you ever want to hear - a diagnosis of "malignant cancer". I've spent plenty of time crying, even more time planning and preparing for the coming Year of Hell. I'm not ready. I will never be ready for this. But. Ready or not. Here it comes.